


cuz i'd walk through hell and back to see you smile

by AppleJuiz



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Bucky barnes is a Mom Friend, Cuddling & Snuggling, Jealousy, M/M, Minor Injuries, Misunderstandings, Protective Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 21:49:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6924739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppleJuiz/pseuds/AppleJuiz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>The only person he doesn't mother ruthlessly there days is Steve, because he knows exactly how that conversation would go. Steve always hated Bucky’s worrying, and that's something that 70 years can't change. Which, in a way, means not taking care of Steve is his new way of taking care of Steve, which is a little confusing.  He lets Steve be, because things are tense enough between them as is.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>That doesn’t mean he’s never worried about Steve.  He’s always worried about Steve, more now than ever before.  He just keeps it to himself, makes his way through every stilted conversation with Steve without giving away how much he’s afraid, and masters the art of subtly, very subtly, nudging good things towards Steve.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	cuz i'd walk through hell and back to see you smile

**Author's Note:**

> Let's face it, Bucky Barnes is the Mom Friend. Which I then took to the extreme and made it super angsty because I can't write a fic where people are just happy. Anyway I hope you like it!

Bucky's a worrier. 

In Brooklyn, his sisters and Steve would constantly complain about all his fussing. It was almost a daily argument with Becca about how “You're not ma, Buck, cut it out.”  During the war, the Commandos would tease him about it. The jokes about mother hens were one of the few things they had a large supply off, but no one seemed to mind his overprotectiveness when he was sniping Hydra agents from up high. 

Steve still hated it, always reminding Bucky that he didn't need it anymore, that he could take care of himself. Bucky knows it was Steve being Steve, determined to prove himself when he never had to, but it has still stung. The one thing he wanted to do, the one thing he always looked forward to, taking care of Steve, and he couldn't even do it anymore. 

That part of him stayed dormant for a long while. As the Soldier, there was no place for concern or a care for those around him. There was no one to take care of, and no one who wouldn't see it as a weakness.

Of course after, while regaining himself, he remembered how to protect others. While he's unable to go into the field and physically protect his new friends, it doesn't stop him from being just as much of a mother hen (only now he thinks the more popular term is ‘mom friend’). 

On Movie Nights he keeps blankets at the ready to drape over whoever falls asleep, and always makes sure everyone has some snack. After long missions, he makes sure everyone has a warm drink and new clean sheets to curl up in. He can hear whenever someone wakes up in the middle of the night, can usually gauged whether they want company and if not he just leaves something out in that person’s favorite space. Natasha gets books of Russian poetry on the floor of the gym, Clint gets one of those popular adult coloring books, the one with the curse words, wedged in the rafters over the kitchen, Wanda gets mp3 with a playlist of instrumental music tucked into her bookshelf, and on and on. 

The only person he doesn't mother ruthlessly is Steve, because he knows exactly how that conversation would go. Steve always hated Bucky’s worrying, and that's something that 70 years can't change. Which, in a way, means not taking care of Steve is his new way of taking care of Steve, which is a little confusing.  He lets Steve be, because things are tense enough between them as is.

That doesn’t mean he’s never worried about Steve.  He’s always worried about Steve, more now than ever before.  He just keeps it to himself, makes his way through every stilted conversation with Steve without giving away how much he’s afraid, and masters the art of subtly, very subtly, nudging good things towards Steve.  Like convincing Sam to take Steve out to lunch when he’s looking like a kicked puppy, or just happening to accidentally wake up Natasha while Steve is recovering from a nightmare, or booking flights for Sharon Carter to come visit, since that seems to cheer him up plenty.

But there are times where he can’t do anything at all, like when Steve and half the team are on a mission that should have been over ten hours ago but Steve is still not home and Bucky kinda can’t breathe.

He stakes out on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket he stole from Steve’s laundry, barely paying attention to the images flashing on the TV screen in front of him, illuminating their dark apartment.  He chews on his nails, something he hasn’t done since the eighth grade and the doctor said Steve was definitely going to be gone by morning.  

It’s two in the morning when the door to their rooms squeaks open, slowly, like Steve thinks he’s asleep.  Bucky’s standing before he even steps in the room.  They stare at each other for a few seconds, and Bucky wants nothing more than to rush over and hug him tight, but that’s too much, too worried, not something he’s allowed to do.  

“It’s two in the morning,” he says evenly instead, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

Steve grins a little, but it’s more of a grimace. “Yeah, bad guys didn’t stay down like we thought they would.  Took a little longer than we expected. You shouldn’t have stayed up.”

Bucky knows he shouldn’t have.  Knows he should have stayed in his room until he heard Steve come in the front door and he could breathe again, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.  He just hopes it doesn’t ruin too much.

“I was just watching some…  _ Friends  _ reruns,” he explains, even though they both know he’s seven seasons in on Netflix and would never watch an episode out of order.  But Steve just nods, probably too tired to call him out on it.

“Well, I'm gonna head to bed,” Steve announces, and seems to hesitate for a second before taking a step forward. His knee buckles and he stumbles forward. 

Bucky knows he shouldn't, knows he should just stay where he is, turn back to the TV like nothing happened, but he can't. He rushes over to Steve, who's already standing back up, hand on the wall behind him. 

“I'm fine,” Steve insists, waving him off. And Bucky freezes in his tracks as up close, he can finally see the after effects of Steve's mission. He has cuts up and down his body, a deep one in his left side, a short one over his eyebrow that must have bled heavily. He has a yellowing bruise on his right cheekbone, probably other darker ones along his arms and torso. There's a hole in his uniform, over the leg he just stumbled on, and yep, he's definitely been shot, inches shy of his artery if Bucky's estimation is correct. 

He feels like he's going to throw up, but pushes through it, taking a deep breath and exhaling before he explodes. 

“Why aren't you in the infirmary?” He asks, calmly, not shouting like he wants to. 

“I'm fine, Buck,” he repeats, gritting his teeth. From the way he's leaning against the wall, he is evidently not fine. But Bucky has to stay calm and nonchalant or he’ll get nowhere. “Just a little dizzy.”

“Okay, well what if you lie down on the couch over here,” he offers, in a soft voice. “I'll get you some water and I can call Nat or someone else to come patch you up.”

Steve shakes his head. “You don’t have to get anyone, I’ll just sit down for a little while.  It’ll heal soon enough.  Keep watching TV.”

Bucky wraps his arm around Steve’s waist, carefully minding the gashes in his side, and helps him over to the couch.  He places the blanket down for Steve to sit on, having moderate success at not wincing every time Steve groans. Despite Steve’s protest, he goes and gets him a glass of water from the kitchen, taking the time to compose himself and stop his hands from shaking.  It’s been how many years of this and he still can’t help how his chest tightens and his stomach ties itself in knots every time Steve is injured.

Their hands brush when he hands over the water, and Bucky steps away from him.  He sits down on the couch a full seat away and waits two full minutes, dimly watching as Monica obsesses over a light switch.  He can’t get into it.

“Hey, Steve,” he says nonchalantly, eyes trained on the television.  “How about you let me clean you up just a little? If you don’t want to bother anyone else, ya know? I’m already up, and we don’t want to… stain the couch or something.”

Steve grunts a little, shifting in his seat.  “Sure,” he concedes, with a sigh.  “I mean, we shouldn’t stain anything.”

Bucky nods, swallowing some more bile that burns in his throat.  He stands, walking over to their bathroom where they keep the first aid kit.  He brings it over to the couch, setting it next to Steve on the couch, and kneels between Steve’s legs on the floor.  

“Uh, I’m gonna have to get your uniform off,” he says quietly.  Steve nods, staring at the ceiling.  He gently reaches for the zippers and clasps on his uniform, undoing each methodically until he can pull off his top.  It’s worse than he thought, but he swallows it all down and pulls out some antiseptic wipes.  

“Is everyone else alright?” he asks, casually, so calmly.  Steve nods, wincing when Bucky brushes a cloth over the cut in his side.  

“Yeah,” Steve says, staying perfectly still.  “I got the worst of it.”

Which means, Steve purposefully threw himself into danger, got his ass beat half to death and then brushed off anyone’s concern or offers to help.  He wants to yell but he swallows it down, just hums thoughtfully, like it doesn’t bother him.

He keeps going, cleaning out each cut as carefully as he can, running his hand along Steve’s arm as he does to soothe him.  Amazingly, he doesn’t get any scolding for coddling him too much, so he keeps doing it, but doesn’t attempt anything else.  He only has to stitch up two cuts, and tenses every muscle to keep from shaking, since he just can’t stand how Steve refuses anesthetics.  He wraps bandages over every other cut, gently spreads cream over each bruise, taking extra care with the one on Steve’s cheekbone.  Amazingly Steve doesn’t protest once, just sits frozen, hands hanging loosely by his side, eyes closed.

It’s quiet and calm, and Bucky doesn’t want the moment to end, but he runs out of injuries to take care of.  He pulls his hands away from Steve’s skin, forces himself to sit back, lean away.  

“All done,” he announces, voice hoarse from not talking.  And then the impossible happens.

“Thanks, Buck,” Steve whispers, without moving.  Bucky freezes, but he knows he can’t make a big deal out of it, because the second he does it’s all over and he can’t.  So he nods to himself, and moves to stand up.  

He shouldn’t push it, but he asks anyway, “Hey, Steve, are you hungry? I have some leftovers in the fridge.”

“I… I’m alright, Buck,” he insists, smiling softly.  There's a strange look in his eyes, like he’s hurting deep inside, and Bucky wants to do so much, hold him until it goes away, give Steve everything he’s got until he smiles, but he knows Steve won’t let him.  

He sits down on the couch again. A different  _ Friends _ episode is playing now.  

“I think I’m going to get some rest,” Steve announces quietly, eyes trained on the floor.  And Bucky wants to get up and help him into bed, make sure he has soft, warm sheets and has enough pillows.  He wants to climb into bed with Steve and hold him loosely and spend the entire night, listening to his heartbeat. But he can’t. So he says nothing, until Steve continues, “I have a mission tomorrow morning and I should pack.”

And then Bucky snaps.

“Haha, no you don’t,” Bucky replies, a cold feeling rushing through him

“Um… yes I do,” Steve says, sounding unsure of it.  He’s looking over at Bucky with concern.

“It’s three in the morning,” he says slowly, like he needs to remind Steve, like he’s that absurd.  “You can barely walk.”

“I’m fine,” he says, scowling. 

“Goddammit!” he throws himself back against the couch instead of throwing something at the wall.  

“What?” he demands, arms crossed over his chest petulantly. 

“You’re killing me Steve,” Bucky sighs, running a hand over his face.

“What?” he repeats.

“You’re doing it again.  Throwing yourself into danger after danger like you’re life means nothing,” he explains, shaking his head and smiling like it's funny when it's the exact opposite.

“Why do you even care? It’s not like I matter to you anymore,” Steve snaps out. 

“What the fuck are you even on about?”

“I’m not dumb, Bucky.  I have eyes.  I know how you feel about me nowadays,” Steve confesses, scowling. 

Bucky's heart drops in his chest. He thought he'd hid it well enough, not showing how concerned he really was all the time, giving Steve the space he needs, taking care of him from as far away as he could. Apparently it wasn't enough. And Steve looks… furious. 

“You do?” Bucky asks calmly. 

“Of course I do.  God, Buck, you’re practically shouting it from the rooftops.”

Steve doesn't even look at him, just stares at the wall in disgust.  Oh God, this is the worst situation possible. Bucky can barely breathe. He thought… He'd tried...

“I… look it doesn’t have to change anything,” he spits out quick, ready to drop to his knees and plead for Steve to forgive him, to let him keep taking care of him, looking out for him because that's the only good thing he can do anymore. 

“Why wouldn’t it?” Steve says, eyes snapping up to Bucky's to glare. 

“Because I've dealt with it this far, haven’t I? I've made it this far without letting it affect anything and it never has to change,” Bucky insists. His heart is beating too fast, breathing too shallowly. He swallows down the panic and moves forward to sit next to Steve, place a hand on his shoulder. 

“Buck,” he sighs, shaking his head. “I can't.”

“Steve,” he chokes out around the lump in his throat. “Please.”

“I… Bucky, I know you probably don't want to hear this, but I care about you a lot. And I know that you're not happy like this. So… Maybe you should move out,” Steve suggests, hands and eyes in his lap. “I'm sure you could stay with Sam or Natasha for a little while. They'd love to have you.”

“Steve, I… We can make this work. And I don't care. I promise I don't. I'm fine with how we are right now.”

“Bucky, let's be honest. You can't stand me. You don't have to stay here out of some warped obligation,” Steve insists and Bucky still has enough rational mind to freeze. 

“What?” He asks slowly. “I can't stand you?”

“We've barely spoken in months, you always leave the room if we're alone together, but around everyone else you're fine,” Steve lists. “You don't have to stay here for me. I understand, okay?” 

“Oh my God,” Bucky breathes, and lightly flicks Steve’s forehead.  “You can’t possibly be this thick.”

“Ow,” Steve whines, rubbing his forehead.  “What was that for?”

“You think I hate you?” Bucky confirms, shaking his head.  Steve nods slowly, eyebrows furrowing.  

“You… You do your thing where you take care of everyone, but… never around me,” he says.  Bucky shakes his head and wraps his arms around Steve’s shoulders, pulling his head into his chest.  

“You’re an idiot,” he says, pressing his nose to Steve’s hairline.  “How could you think that?”

“You never take care of me anymore,” Steve whispers, voice thick.  “I thought you just… didn’t care.”

“You hated it,” Bucky explains.  “You always complained about it back then, and well… there’s so much more of me that you should hate by now, so I figured I might as well make it one less thing.”

“I… I don’t hate a thing about you,” Steve rushes out, hands fisting his Bucky’s shirt.  “I could never… Bucky.”

“Shhh, Steve.  It’s okay,” Bucky assures him, running a hand over his hair.  “I… Do you want- Do you want me to take care of you?”

Steve nods frantically, pressing his face into Bucky’s shoulder.  “Please Buck, I’ve missed you so much.”

Relief floods through him, dispelling the cold in his chest.  His hands shake a little, at the enormity of it.  He has Steve’s full permission to take care of him.  The possibilities are endless… and he’s not sure where to start.  He pulls Steve closer, kisses the top of his forehead. 

“You’re not going on that mission tomorrow,” he says firmly.  “You’re staying right here, so I can make sure none of these cuts get infected.”

Steve tenses briefly, lips pursed.  “Buck… I have to though,” he protests weakly.

“No,” Bucky insists.  “You’re hurt, Steve; you’re not going anywhere.”

“It’s my job,” he protests. 

“You want me to take care of you? This is how it works. You stop throwing yourself into danger like this.  You stop getting hurt for no reason, okay?”

“It’s not for no reason.  I have to.  It’s all I can do,” Steve confesses.  

“Stevie,” he protests.  “No, baby, you’re so much more.”

“I’m not… I’m not good at anything else, but like this I help people.  I’m good for something.  And I can’t stop,” he continues.  Bucky can feel a small patch of moisture on his shoulder, where Steve’s face is pressed against him.  His chest aches.  

“Now that’s just not true,” he breathes consolingly.  “You’re everything, Steve.  And you can do anything, or be anything you want.  And I’ll be right here with you, okay? I love you so much, Stevie.”

“You do?” he whimpers.  He hadn’t meant to let that slip out, but Steve doesn’t seem upset.

“Of course,” he says.  “More than anything in the world, Steve.”

“Oh Buck, I… You shouldn’t.”

“Hey,” Bucky mutters, a warning.

“I can’t… I can’t have that life with you.  I can’t… I don’t know how to be that type of person, I’d just screw it all up.”

“What type of person?”

“The… happy kind.”

“I… Steve, I could… We could be happy, if that’s what you want.  We could… I’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy, Stevie.”

“No, Buck, it’s not you.  I’m not cut out for that.  I’m not good enough for it, and I’d ruin it all.”

“Hey, you stop it right there,” Bucky snaps, squeezing Steve tighter.  “That’s my best guy you’re bad mouthing and I’m not gonna let that slide.”

Steve chokes on a sob, cling to Bucky like a lifeline.  

“What do you want Steve?” he asks softly.  “Anything you want and we’ll get it.  You deserve it.  You deserve everything.  I’m taking care of you know, right?  That’s what you asked me to do.  I will.  I’ll get you everything you want.”

“I just want you, Buck,” he whispers.

“Well, you’ve got me right here.  Now and forever.  I ain’t going nowhere.”

“And… I want to be good enough… to be happy.”

“You already are,” Bucky assures him.  “You’re so good, sweetheart, and we’ll make sure you’re happy.  What’ll make you happy?”

“S-Staying here tomorrow,” he stammers, barely whispering.  “Staying here with you.  In bed.”

“Done,” Bucky says.  Steve pulls back a little, glancing up at Bucky nervously.  His eyes are still a little red rimmed, but the corners of his mouth are slightly upturned.  

“I…”

“Yeah, baby?” he whispers, placing his hand gently on Steve’s neck, running his thumb along his jaw.  “Anything you want, just gotta ask.”

“Can you kiss me?” Steve asks, turning beet red like he asked for something completely different.

“God, Steve, I’ve been waiting for you to say that for almost 80 years,” Bucky confesses, leaning in slowly, ghosting his lips over Steve’s.  Steve whimpers, closing his eyes, and sliding his hand to the back of Steve’s neck, Bucky seals their lips together.  

He’s pretty sure it’s not Steve’s first kiss, but he’s still sloppy and a little uncoordinated.  Steve moves frantically, desperate like he’s running out of time, but Bucky slows him down, coaxing him without words to part his lips slightly, slow down and go softer.  The tension seeps out of his shoulders, and Steve leans back, sighs contently.  

It could’ve lasted for hours and he wouldn’t have noticed. It could be another 70 years in the future for all he cares, when he finally pulls away.  Steve looks dazed, eyelids drooping as he glances up at Bucky through his lashes.

“Damn,” Bucky breathes, running his thumb lightly along Steve’s kiss swollen lips. “That good enough for you?”

Steve nods, humming in the back of his throat.

“What next?” Bucky asks, placing a hand on Steve’s heaving chest.  

“Again,” Steve demands, straining up, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s neck.  Bucky nods, resting his forehead against Steve.  

“Give me a second,” he says, nuzzling his nose against Steve’s cheek.  He shifts down, pressing his lips to Steve’s jaw, revealing in the way Steve gasps when he gently parts his lips against his skin.  

“Good?” he asks, glancing up. Steve nods frantically, burying his hand in Bucky's hair.  Bucky presses a line of wet, soft kisses up and down Steve's neck. 

“God, Buck, I love you,” Steve breathes, clinging to Bucky's shirt, his head falling back against the couch. 

“I love you, too, Stevie,” Bucky says into the hollow of Steve's throat. He runs his hand along Steve's side, squeezing his waist lightly. Steve flinches, because that's where the gash was. Bucky draws his hand back like it's on fire. “Shit, I'm so sorry, baby. You okay?”

Steve nods, pressing his forehead to Bucky's. “I'm alright, Buck. Promise.”

“You know what, how about we go to bed? That okay?”

Steve sighs, rolling his eyes. 

“Come on, you're injured and tired. We have time. You're not going anywhere tomorrow,” Bucky explains.  As carefully as he can, Bucky lifts Steve off the couch, hands tucked under Steve's legs. 

Steve sighs happily, burying his face in Bucky's neck, placing soft little kisses. He lowers Steve onto the bed slowly, carefully minding his assorted injuries. Steve smiles up at him and dragging Bucky down next to him. He wraps himself around Bucky, and Bucky strokes his hands through Steve's hair, reveling in the soft contented sighs Steve's making. 

“What else do you want, Stevie?” He asks, staring up at the ceiling. “Sky’s the limit.”

Steve shakes his head. “I've got everything right here, Buck.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, please feel free to send me prompts on [tumblr](https://applejuiz.tumblr.com) or check out [my book.](https://cristinafernandezbooks.com/books/people-like-us/)


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